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On seeing the color green in nature: it might be titled “ink tastes like kale,” but not if I wonder what Johannesburg smells like on the second Friday of a July. My backpack is always ready. I have four toothbrushes on the tip of my tongue. My shoulder blades cut like wings if paper was the sky. A map of the world, the dance of your back bone. Yes, an atlas is printed in all shapes and sizes.